"Founded by Tommy Perse (father of T-shirt mogul James), Maxfield is where Larry David should have gone shoe shopping on Curb Your Enthusiasm. Maxfield is a place to see and be seen, but it's also a place to indulge in strange fashion and design fantasies that can't be fulfilled anywhere else. It's famous for introducing L.A. to Comme des Garçons and Yohji Yamamoto in the early '80s and somewhat infamous for selling a selection of shrunken heads alongside vintage Birkins a few decades later."

"West Hollywood's elevated-fashion emporium Just One Eye, on the other hand, is built for Instagram. Hirst looms large here too. Literally: A Damien Hirst cherry-blossom painting the size of a climbing wall anchors the space, which is so big you could fit a 747 inside. Art collector and Just One Eye founder Paola Russo has sprinkled at least a dozen holy shit art moments throughout the store, courtesy of Hirst, Takashi Murakami, and John Chamberlain, whose Hawkfliesagain sculpture guards the entryway. If at first the clothes feel almost beside the point, the extensive selections from The Row, Prada, and Wales Bonner—all brands that play well with the art world—are almost enough to jog your memory that, yes, you did come to Just One Eye to look at clothes."

"Accessed through a blank white sliding door in the back of a Maru Coffee, Departamento has a bit of a speakeasy vibe. But rather than feeling pretentious or played out, the setup—a windowless, grotto-like space filled with mirrors and racks of clothes—feels low-key and private, like a safe space to indulge in radical style experiments."

"When Dover Street Market opened down the street from Departamento at the end of 2018, many took it as a sign that Los Angeles had arrived as a global fashion city. That's the power of the specialty store started by Comme des Garçons creative director Rei Kawakubo and her husband, CdG president Adrian Joffe, which has become a beacon for avant-garde designers and driptastic dressers from Tokyo and New York (and now L.A.). Because Dover Street stocks an enormous quantity of runway fashion from the likes of Gucci, Balenciaga, Raf Simons, Sacai, and a host of Comme des Garçons brands, along with plenty of clothes made by upstart iconoclasts like Kiko Kostadinov and Craig Green, few stores are doing more to define fashion's bleeding edge."

"HLNR, as it's known, is an outpost of H.Lorenzo's Los Angeles retail mini empire, which also includes two stores on Sunset Boulevard and a late-season/archival spot downtown. HLNR is the most experimental of the four stores—there are solar panels attached to the facade, and on the day I stopped by, every mannequin I spotted in the windows was wearing a Marine Serre balaclava. Unlike at Dover Street, the store is merched for men and women separately, except for a marble-countered accessories and sneaker zone, where I found a pair of candy-colored women's Kiko Kostadinov x Asics Gel-Korika sneakers."

"We all go shopping to try on new identities, but it's not often that a retail experience feels utterly transportive. It did when I slipped on the pair of Charvet slippers provided in the changing room at Chez Olsen, also known as The Row store, on Melrose Place. With interiors designed by Montalba Architects, the West Coast home for Mary-Kate and Ashley's über-luxe, minimal men's and women's line resembles a modernist house that has been trucked down from the Hills, complete with a pool in a central courtyard, midcentury furniture throughout, and Man Ray prints hanging on the walls."

"The Elder Statesman in West Hollywood offers another version of the good life. Save for the odd tie-dye shirt, practically everything in the store is made of cashmere, from a stuffed dolphin to a handwoven blanket that costs more than a used Prius. The Elder Statesman tends to be thought of as a top-shelf stoner brand, and one can see why: Yes, there are the marijuana-leaf sweaters, but I can think of no more pleasurable experience than getting enormously baked and touching everything in the store."

"As I considered the heaviest hoodie I had ever felt, constructed out of high-gauge French terry, owner Phillip Proyce informed me that every Lady White garment is made within five miles of the store. The garments may look simple, but each T-shirt seam is an opportunity to nerd out. “I think people can feel when they come in that we love the clothes,” said Proyce as he explained how he discovered one of the last guys in L.A. who can do blistering-stitched cuffs. (Believe me, you want those.)"

"Proprietor René T. Holguin's visionary assemblage of reworked vintage mechanics jackets, blousy shirts, reengineered drop-crotch Levi's, and a rotating mix of leather accessories feels unmoored from fashion, a universe unto itself."

"Inside, I discovered the effect of NHM's secrecy: It is basically unspoiled by fashion, a gem that could be located in a narrow Tokyo alley. One section is devoted to a killer selection of gardening outfits: white rubber boots, straw hats, vintage smocks, and an assortment of tools for tilling and potting. Another to tons of Japanese incense, hot chili oil, and tea sets. The clothes are simple, textural, and artisanal."

"After a requisite stop at Erewhon for an organic hot-bar bowl, I dropped by Union, which heralded La Brea's transition into the streetwear strip—Stüssy and Stampd are next door, OVO is nearby, and a Carhartt WIP just opened on the block. Union has always marched to its own beat (swerving to high fashion when everyone was obsessed with sneakers), and with the rise of Trump, Union owners Chris Gibbs and Beth Birkett haven't exactly stuck to sports."

"Early on a Thursday evening, I stopped by Supreme on North Fairfax, not quite sure what to expect on the brand's infamous weekly drop day. But there was nobody lined up outside, save for a few teenage skaters smoking cigs and drinking beers. Inside, the racks were stocked with what I consider the good stuff—sturdy outerwear, rigid chinos, and retro-normcore jumpers that are basically always available."

"The most satisfying, exhilarating, and, I would argue, important store I visited in L.A. was located in the least assuming location of all: on the second floor of a Chinatown plaza, in a space no larger than my tiny Brooklyn bedroom. It is only open (for now) on the weekends, but more than any other store I visited, Classic Hits, run by artist and Come Tees designer Sonya Sombreuil, is actively creating the conditions under which cool retail projects can actually exist. First, there's the batshit selection. Where else can you find Online Ceramics lot tees alongside a pair of purple overdyed Cactus Plant Flea Market jeans hanging next to a silk shirt with an allover print of a grinning Grimace? (The Grimace shirt was homemade by a customer—when he walked in wearing one, Sombreuil immediately placed an order.)"